


Garlic And Rosemary

by mylordshesacactus



Series: Happy Huntress Cinematic Universe [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: (read: wild-ass guessing about how Atlas works), Atlas Academy, F/F, Faunus!Robyn, First Meetings, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Robin Hood References, Worldbuilding, im Springthyme trash and it shows but this is just a meetcute, the interplay of sex and witty banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21753409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylordshesacactus/pseuds/mylordshesacactus
Summary: "Thou pratest like an ass," said Robin, "for I could send this shaft clean through thy proud heart before a curtal friar could say grace over a roast goose at Michaelmastide.""And thou pratest like a coward," answered the stranger, "for thou standest there with a good yew bow to shoot at my heart, while I have nought in my hand but a plain blackthorn staff wherewith to meet thee."Or: Atlas Academy, day one.
Relationships: Robyn Hill/Fiona Thyme
Series: Happy Huntress Cinematic Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646263
Comments: 46
Kudos: 197





	Garlic And Rosemary

**Author's Note:**

> I read a whole bunch of the Robin Hood mythos within 36 hours of the episode dropping because I've lost control of my life. Obviously, I had no choice but to reverse-engineer how the Happy Huntresses met based on perfect 1:1 shot recreations of the original source material, adapted into the setting of Atlas.
> 
> [This](http://www.lem.seed.pr.gov.br/arquivos/File/JuvenileLiterature/themerryadventures.pdf) is the version of the source material I was working off of, if y'all want to be nerds and cross-reference the first meetings with Little John and Friar Tuck.
> 
> Many thanks to Kablob for her beta skills and emotional support and ruthless mockery as I tumble down this rabbit hole. Also my sincere apologies to May for a single instance of misgendering, I did my best to keep it to a minimum; it's just that she's not out yet so they genuinely don't know.

Well.

This was it.

Fourteen months. A year to navigate the applications process without help, finding admission requirements and exam prep resources, thinning the wheat from the chaff—there were ten times as many blatant scams and worse, operating in Mantle and targeting the faunus specifically. Robyn was lucky not to be marked out for some of them—in a sense. And then two months after receiving her acceptance, waiting and trying to sort out her emotions.

 _We’re moving up in the world,_ she told herself. If only that wasn’t quite so _literal._ At least she didn’t have a fear of heights…

If only a fear of heights were all that made her queasy about leaving Mantle behind. 

She’d been doing good down there. But not enough. Not nearly enough. And the near-misses had gotten _way_ too near. She needed to be better than this, if she was going to do any real good. Mantle was...just going to have to wait for her. She had to sacrifice the short-term to save more lives over decades, but that required...well. Sacrificing people, in the short term.

Couldn’t be helped.

The airship docked with a shudder and a pneumatic hiss; the connection to the enclosed walkway, however, wasn’t sealed nearly well enough to prevent a rush of frigid air from whirling into the passenger area the moment the doors opened. Violent swearing ran up and down the airship, followed by scattered laughter as they shared a moment of wry connection with their equally frozen neighbors.

“You know,” a human griped as they all started pulling beat-up suitcases and Dust-stained knapsacks from the overhead bins. “Not all of us have fur coats! Let a guy into the heat, why don’t you?”

“Fuck off,” answered an iguana faunus who looked absolutely wretched. Robyn stood aside for him as he shivered his way onto the jetway, powerwalking toward the promise of central heating.

The Mantle shuttle emptied quickly; Robyn kept to the sidelines as they filed out, a worn duffle slung over her back. It wasn’t _that_ cold, and she was used to it and lucky enough to have high-quality, definitely-legally-purchased gloves. She let everyone blowing into their hands stream ahead.

Two older students in crisp, perfect uniforms bearing colored braid that probably meant something were waiting at the end of the jetway, offering smiles and handshakes and “Welcome to Atlas Academy!”s as they directed the newcomers down a hall. 

A human male, and a faunus female—enormous hare’s ears, shockingly white but beginning to look patchy near the base as spring rolled in. They pointed the new students along to where a short line had formed in front of two other senior students—this time a human female and a young man with a forked tongue that curled out between his teeth with his easy smile. One of each, in each group, Robyn noted. To put them all at ease, or to make a statement? Or both?

For all the fuss about getting inside, it was only minutes before they labelled their luggage to be sent to the dorms, got their names checked off, and arrived in the auditorium. Their group joined a larger crowd of students clumped around the heating vents and paying rapt attention to the stage. After the drafty airship it was almost _oppressively_ warm, but Robyn didn’t dare take off her coat.

No one said anything about that, or about the way she stuck near the wall once they’d entered.

Funny, wasn’t it. When she’d still had her tail, _everyone_ had noticed.

Apparently, once you passed for human, it wasn’t ‘skulking in the shadows’ anymore to simply want to be able to observe the room without anyone sneaking up on you. Only foxes did that. And her coat was magically just a long coat, sensible for the brutal Solitas winters, not evidence that she was hiding a weapon other than her bow or smuggling stolen goods in the pockets. Stolen goods generally up to and including the coat, as it happened.

Which _hadn’t_ actually been stolen. It had been a legitimate investment from a faunus-run business.

“Ah! Wonderful.” James Ironwood was...shorter in person than Robyn had expected. He cleared his throat and raised an arm, gesturing the hovering band of newcomers to spread out and join the rest of the herd. “The final shuttle from Mantle has arrived! I trust your flight was uneventful? Good. Come in and get warm; now that everyone’s here, we’ll get started right away.”

 _Oh, wow,_ Robyn thought. _He talks like that in real life._

“Every Academy has its own traditions and practices,” Ironwood began, dimming the lights with a gesture and bringing up a holographic slideshow. “At Beacon, Headmaster Ozpin prefers to rely on fate and even chance to pair partners and form teams, and in doing so creates diverse connections and close bonds that might never have existed otherwise. At Shade Academy, students choose their own partners and teams, celebrating the power of choice and free will. Here in Atlas, we prefer...a more scientific approach.”

That got appreciative laughter from around the room.

Giving a sensible chuckle of his own, Ironwood clicked through to the next slide. “Many of you are already familiar with Atlas’ team-forming protocols. Some of you even know about them from family members who’ve attended in the past. But for those of you who don’t know already, and those who have questions, I’ve prepared this overview.”

The words ‘SET UP FOR SUCCESS’ blinked into existence. After a moment, so did a graphic of a smiling Beowulf giving a thumbs-up.

“Our goal at Atlas Academy is to set each and every one of you up for success,” he told them with a warm, earnest smile. “Whatever your past, whatever your goals, when you graduate in four years we want you to walk back out those doors as the absolute best huntsmen—and huntresses—that you can be. That means providing you with well-matched teams from the very beginning.” 

The slide had three segments, and with a click of a button Ironwood zoomed in on the first.

“Over the next two days, you’ll be participating in a series of compatibility exercises,” Ironwood explained. Robyn tried to tune him out as she turned to look through the crowd. She’d read the pamphlets, and gone through the official preparatory materials the sole time she’d been able to scrape up enough for a non-official airship pass to access the Atlas library. She knew the basics.

That being said, she thought as she caught the eye of a human who was so handsome as to actually be off-putting, who noticed her looking at him and tipped her a rakish wink. There were worse things than being slightly bored.

“These activities are _not_ tests of ability,” Ironwood emphasized. “You’ve all earned your place here, and there will be plenty of time for exams later! Our goal for the next two days is to give you all a chance to show off your fighting styles, talents, the use of your unique Semblance, and your strengths and weaknesses as well as to learn how you best work with others—both on the battlefield, and off it. All of those things will be entered into the Headmaster’s system—that’s me,” he added as if anyone on the planet didn’t know. “And a secure algorithm will provide suggestions as to your eventual team placements. But don’t worry.”

Another click of a button, and the slide changed to a stylized, animated image of Ironwood himself waving awkwardly with “#2” above its head.

“Your fates aren’t being totally decided by computer,” the real Ironwood assured them. “The algorithm only provides a guide. I make the final decisions myself, based on the real human connections I observe—which will always be more nuanced than mere numbers.”

Robyn didn’t suppress a quiet snort. Human connection. If she had a stopwatch, she’d have clicked it.

Ironwood didn’t seem to have noticed the slip. “Coincidences and similarities I might miss will usually be picked up by the algorithm; it’s helped me to pair some of the Academy’s most successful Huntsmen in the past. But of course…” One more click, and the #3 label was superimposed over a live camera feed of the crowd. “The final ingredient for successful pairings is you. Show me your best selves, and don’t hold back; these aren’t your competitors, they’re your potential teammates. Show them what you can do, and try to mingle as much as you can. The more data we have, the better we can find you a team that will benefit you as much as you benefit them.”

The hologram faded and the lights came back up. Ironwood smiled and nodded toward the line of student greeters, who turned on cue and opened the doors along the side of the auditorium.

“Well!” he said. “If everyone will proceed to the training facilities, we can get started right away. Ahem.” He didn’t seem to know where to put his microphone. “I’ll...meet you there in a moment. Have fun!”

* * *

Atlas Academy’s training facilities were...impressive.

Obviously.

If Robyn were bitter at all she would use the phrase “conspicuous consumption,” but that would be rude. At least the place was climate-controlled. And, since they would all be working up a sweat, less stiflingly warm than the reception auditorium.

“Welcome!” Ironwood’s voice finally filled the space, as he strode in behind them. Robyn shifted to her left, out of his way; not quite quickly enough, because he looked over and flashed her a friendly smile before moving to the center of the room. The crowd backed up to give him space. “Well, let’s not waste your time. For this first exercise, a handful of you will be defending against multiple attackers. Now, I don’t want a dogpile; remember, you’re trying to help each other demonstrate your skills. There will be one volunteer in the center of a circle.” Circles lit up on the floor. “Six others will surround them, attacking at random. No more than two attackers at any given time, please! Do I have any volunteers to be the defender?”

A few hands rose willingly enough; but one shot up first, with a firm, “I will, sir!”

Ironwood smiled. “Miss Schnee! Welcome to Atlas Academy. I knew I could count on you.”

 _Schnee?_ The whisper circled the room, some voices angry and others simply disbelieving. _As in, Jacques Schnee? Are there other Schnees? That can’t be the actual Winter Schnee, can it? Shouldn’t she be snorting caviar off an endangered species pelt or whatever rich humans do in Atlas?_

Winter Schnee—because it was definitely her, Jacques Schnee’s precious eldest daughter dressed in pale blue slacks with a naked saber at her hip—tossed her head proudly and stepped forward into the circle.

She was dressed in very well-tailored slacks. Robyn’s eyes wandered against her will.

 _Might as well enjoy the view while it lasts,_ she thought reasonably. _Bet you anything she’ll ruin it the minute she opens her mouth._

“Excellent. I saw some more volunteers...you, you, and you. Everyone else, divide up! Groups of seven, including the defender.”

Robyn, still leaning against the wall, observed the ebb and flow of the crowd as they bunched up around their targets. Most of the Atlesians, and even the out-Kingdom transplants, were giving Winter Schnee curious looks but didn’t seem eager to approach her.

Several of the faunus students, however, seemed only too willing to take their shot. Casually, pushing off from the wall and trying not to make her choice look deliberate, Robyn went to join them.

“You have one minute to strategize, and to tell one another anything about your weapons or Semblance that you want them to know before you begin!” Ironwood announced. “I advise you to remember the element of surprise and choose carefully whether you want to surrender it.”

“What’s the trick?” one of Robyn’s group asked instantly, pointing toward Winter’s elegant sword. Robyn looked it over as she thumbed the trigger on her weapon, snapping it from a lightweight rectangle of powder-brushed black metal to a full-size longbow. _That_ was no standardized broadsword purchased direct from the manufacturer via a run-down Mantle storefront. Of course a Schnee would be above such things.

“No trick.” Winter lifted her chin. “I don’t need my father’s Dust to prove myself. My skills are more than enough for _you.”_

Mentally, Robyn gave a low whistle. _Hello, daddy issues._ That certainly explained why she was here.

“Ready!” Ironwood’s voice rang out from the walls; apparently there were speakers embedded in them. “Ten seconds. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Begin!”

The twitch of a tawny lioness’ tail was Winter’s only warning as the first weapon came whistling toward her head.

She blocked, disengaging at the speed of thought and whirling to knock aside a second blade, ducking under a mace and kicking aside a zweihander that raised jagged spikes of ice where it embedded itself in the ground.

Robyn made a face. Schnee was good. That was annoying, even if she should have seen it coming.

As a test, she fitted a red-tipped arrow to the string and fired.

Schnee didn’t look up, but a black glyph bloomed in the arrow’s path; it slowed, then fell sadly to the ground having done absolutely nothing. The fire Dust didn’t even ignite from the impact.

That set the tone. A girl with cat ears darted in and kicked at her knees; Winter stepped back and right into the downward, fiery sweep of a bladed rifle, but by the time she’d turned to engage the wielder had already stepped back outside the circle and was immune.

The death of a thousand cuts. Winter blocked many of the blows, but more of them got through, her Aura flickering every few seconds. As the match dragged on her flat mask twisted into an ugly expression and her form got sloppier. Robyn took a step back and waited, purple arrow resting on the string…

There. Winter saw her out of the corner of her eye, but was whirling too fast to register more than the fact that Robyn had her ranged—

The gravity glyph sprang up again, but it only ignited the matching Dust in the arrowhead. A gravitic ripple threw the circle back and the arrow flew through unimpeded, at near point-blank range.

Winter’s Aura flared white and a warning alarm came from the Scroll in her pocket as her aura dipped below competition level. 

The attackers were angry, not monsters; one large, powerful faunus whose claws suggested a polar bear checked his flail mid-swing, reaching out to grab the chain and yank the blow off-course so that it missed its target by several feet and smacked its master in the shoulder instead.

“Well done,” called Ironwood. “Take a rest while the other groups finish.” 

Winter visibly ground her teeth but bowed, stiff and vicious. Robyn unstrung her bow.

There was a reason she’d spent the money to buy a longbow over the considerably cheaper handguns and hunting rifles that you generally found in standard weapons stores. Arrows, unlike bullets, were reusable; she moved forward to collect the ones she’d spent, and examine them for damage before slipping them back into the quiver.

Winter glanced over at her, still radiating anger but with her hands folded tightly behind her back. “That was a good shot.”

Robyn did not want to be a part of this conversation. “It’s hard to miss at this range.”

“Still.” Something dark passed behind her clear blue eyes. “Even at a short range, a clean shot takes actual _skill._ Anyone can win if they cheat.”

Robyn went still, then very carefully picked up an Ice-tipped arrow and felt its fletching. “I didn’t see anyone cheat.”

“Dirty tricks,” Winter spat. “And cowardly tactics. I’m not surprised none of them bothered trying to stand their ground for more than a few seconds. If I’d gotten any fair chance to fight back…at least you ended it with an _honest_ blow. If I’d just been whittled down with glancing blows from those upjumped bandits I don’t think I could bear the shame.”

The fur on what was left of Robyn’s tail bristled. 

_Say,_ she thought, studiously avoiding eye contact as she picked up her final arrow. _Did you know that foxes are canines?_

Robyn could hear a dogwhistle loud and clear, thank you very much.

“If we’re being technical about cheating,” she said, managing to keep the snarl out of her voice with difficulty. “The only person who struck from outside the circle was _me.”_

Winter snorted. “You know what I mean.”

Robyn stood up, knuckles white on her bow. For a long moment she _looked_ at Winter without seeing her, senses filled with bright lights and gunshots and _pain,_ blood gushing over snow-white fur.

“I really think I do,” she said, and walked away before she could say anything else.

* * *

Eventually, Ironwood called them back to the center.

“I hope everyone enjoyed the warmup,” he told them, and laughed softly at the indignant exclamations of _warmup?!_ that sprang up across the room. “For the next two hours, we’ll set up stations for sparring and training on your own time. Polearms, two-handed weapons, one-handed weapons, hand-to-hand, and a range. In addition, our combat instructor will be sparring one-on-one with students who wish to try their luck. Enter your name, and she will draw participants for as long as she is able. Does anyone wish to go first?”

To no one’s surprise, Winter Schnee’s hand was the first in the air again. This time there was a freezing determination on her face. She’d been the second eliminated in the round-robin; she clearly had something to prove now.

“Ugh,” muttered a tall human girl to Robyn’s left. _“Again?”_

Robyn glanced over. The girl saw her looking and jerked her chin as if to say, _get a load of that._

“Miss Schnee.” To Robyn’s quiet delight, Ironwood was slightly less enthusiastic this time. “I applaud your enthusiasm, but your Aura level is still lower than I would like for such intense sparring. I hope you’ll enter your name for the drawing; but there will be many opportunities to showcase your skill.”

Pale face flushed, Winter stepped back stiffly into the crowd.

The tall human smirked, and Robyn tried not to mirror her too obviously.

Ironwood turned back to the crowd. “Would anyone else care to—”

The sight of Winter Schnee’s face had ignited something in Robyn’s stomach. She had as much right to be here as anyone else, after all. Mantle was worth as much as Atlas. And she was _faunus,_ still, whatever the likes of the Schnees wanted to believe at a glance. She had stepped forward and put her hand up before she realized she was doing it.

To her shock, the tall human had moved in the exact same moment.

“There we are! Miss Greenleaf and...Miss Hill, I believe? You know…” Ironwood gave a faint laugh. “I...can’t for the life of me say which of you raised your hand first. I wonder. If you’re both so eager...would you ladies care to give us a demonstration?”

The human gave a fierce grin, throwing an arm around Robyn’s shoulder. “Hell yeah we would.”

Robyn’s eyes narrowed.

“If you think you can take me, short stuff,” she retorted, and her new friend pounded her on the back and vaulted up onto Ironwood’s stage. “It’s Robyn, by the way.”

“Joanna,” the human replied, offering her a hand that Robyn ignored out of pride. Shrugging, Joanna stepped back and unslung a nasty-looking quarterstaff of featureless black metal from her back. “Don’t take any of your broken ribs personally.”

Joanna backed to one side of the stage; Robyn waited on the other. Between them, Ironwood raised a hand, paused for nods of confirmation from both of them, and then slashed it downward.

Joanna took an eager step forward—and then froze.

Ice-tipped arrow pulled back to her cheek, Robyn raised an eyebrow.

“I honestly don’t know how you expected this to go,” she pointed out.

Joanna pouted. “Oh, come on! All right, you’ve made your point. I get it! Not having a ranged weapon is a weakness! I thought we were gonna do this for real. You backing out on a technicality?”

Robyn relaxed her string—cautiously, because with legs like Joanna’s she could close that distance in a heartbeat.

Mentally, she pictured Joanna dangling a turkey leg on a rope over a pit of spikes. As bait went, it would be less insultingly obvious. And yet.

“Headmaster,” she called. “Do you have a training staff I can borrow?”

Whoops, laughter and scattered fits of applause greeted her words. Ironwood seemed pleased as well, readily handing her up a plain, unadorned metal stick in exchange for her folded bow and knife.

 _“There_ we go,” Joanna grinned. “Now it’s a party.”

Giving her the initiative was likely to end in Robyn being bullrushed off the stage entirely; after a few test swings to get a feel for the weight of the staff, she darted forward and swung under Joanna’s guard.

It was a feint, and she sent the staff whistling toward her opponent’s head instead at the last minute; Joanna knocked it aside with a laugh and sent a devastating blow at Robyn’s temple that she barely managed to block.

This was always going to be a losing battle; the quarterstaff was Joanna’s primary weapon, after all. But Robyn was competent enough with a staff in a pinch; enough to put up a fight, and sometimes being smaller and faster was worth the disadvantage in weight, even in a fight like this. By working Joanna in circles, dodging around the stage, there was a very real chance she might slip in behind her and land a solid blow.

Joanna swung at her head again; as Robyn locked their staves together and braced up under Joanna’s attempt to crush her onto one knee, she glanced past her opponent just in time to see a smiling Ironwood tap something into his Scroll

It was the only warning she got before the stage shifted under her feet.

The whole room was built on a grid of blocks, a chunk of which had been raised to give the Headmaster a platform. Apparently he could control them from his Scroll, because the outer two lengthwise columns of the stage had just retracted, leaving them a narrower space in which to maneuver.

“Cheating,” Robyn gasped, panting for breath. Joanna grinned.

Robyn managed, barely, to disengage. It was harder to dodge now. Joanna clipped her badly in the shoulder; Robyn managed to land a glancing blow to Joanna’s thigh but not enough to gain an advantage—

The outer front and back edges of the stage lowered again. They were trapped on a thin, two-block-wide strip of stage now, and it was down to staffwork entirely. Which meant it was over. Robyn managed one final solid blow, a sideways strike across Joanna’s ribs that nearly took her down; but it left her open for a counterattack. A crack over the head and a swift blow straight into the gut sent her stumbling backward; she flailed, mentally cursed the lack of a tail she hadn’t depended on for balance in years, and toppled in a heap off the back of the stage.

When her head stopped ringing, she managed to sit upright and trusted her unbroken Aura to deal with the concussion. Amid enthusiastic cheers and applause, Joanna leaped down from the stage and offered Robyn a wide grin and an outstretched hand.

 _“Ow.”_ Robyn grinned and reached up to clasp Joanna’s arm, letting herself be pulled to her feet. “You know, I’m not usually that easy to beat with a stick. Color me impressed. You might as well, you’ve colored me black and blue from head to toe already, ow, my _head.”_

“You think that was easy?” Joanna elbowed her in the ribs, and they both blanched in unison as various injuries made themselves loudly known. _“Ow._ Ow. You’re not bad yourself, you know, ow, _fuck me with a chainsaw_ that’s a rib.”

“Is this—ow, ow ow—how your parties usually end?”

“No, we’re usually drunk. Which sounds good right about now _oh gods._ Can kidneys cry?”

* * *

Kidneys, Robyn discovered, _could_ cry; unfortunately General Ironwood didn’t seem to care.

After the two-hour so-called breather he put them in gauntlets, rotating pair work. Robyn was unlucky enough to face Winter Schnee again, this time one-on-one and unable to retreat to ranged distance; a utility knife against a tempered-steel saber was the very definition of an unfair fight, and Winter’s satisfied expression when they broke apart to form a new pair _galled_ her beyond reason.

“Could be worse,” Joanna said when they found themselves facing one another again and mutually agreed to go hand-to-hand this time, moving very slowly and avoiding their myriad bruises. Apparently even Aura took time to handle cracked ribs. “You could be that poor Marigold kid.”

“You’re joking.” A Marigold and a Schnee in the same cohort? The sheer choking capitalism would poison the water supply. “What gods did we anger?”

“Nah, I was in the circle with him, he’s not so bad.” Joanna swiped at Robyn’s head, and she dodged. “Schnee thinks they’re _friends.”_

“Poor thing.” Robyn had to laugh. “She tried it with me too. Can you imagine being on a team with _that?_ I’d have to drop out and change my name.”

“I’d have to take a running jump off the city,” Joanna said flatly. “She seems easy to make friends with, though. Say a bunch of racist shit and insult her dad.”

“Picked up on that, did you?”

“Somehow. Seriously though, we’re gonna have to snag Marigold next time we do a group thing, nobody deserves that.”

A tone chimed over the intercom, and they all dropped out of ready positions with sighs of relief. Ironwood, who’d spent the last several hours observing from a high balcony, waved for their attention.

“Well done, everyone,” he announced. “For the next activity…”

He waited as identical expressions of exhausted despair played across every face Robyn could see. Finally, he smiled.

“Dinner,” he said. “Go to the locker rooms and shower; there are clean uniforms waiting for you to change into. Reconvene in the dining hall. You can help yourselves as soon as you get there; there’s no need to stand on ceremony, I’m bad at speeches anyway. Yes, I know, it’s ironic. Get cleaned up, then come and eat.”

* * *

Robyn tried not to make a face; there were too many ways that could be misinterpreted.

Welcome to Atlas. There was always, _especially_ at the heart of the Academy where prejudice was meant to be checked at the door, a faunus table.

More than one, in this case; Ironwood had divided the dining hall up into eight-man picnic tables, once more forcing them to split into new groups. But the divide was obvious enough.

She _hated_ this moment whenever it came. Against her will or no, she passed for human now. It would be simple enough to identify herself, but...frankly that got exhausting when she did it every time, and there were...advantages, especially here, in slipping under the radar. The price of humans not knowing Robyn’s species was that other faunus didn’t know it either.

Trailing a completely unfazed Joanna, she crossed the room and sat down beside a slim girl with impressively arched gazelle horns. “May we?”

“It’s not illegal,” she answered. Joanna thanked her and flopped into an empty space, across the table and further down.

Robyn felt for her drink, eyes flicking between faces. She tried to hide her examination behind a long swig of apple juice. No one seemed actively uncomfortable with their presence, at least; that was never a guarantee. A few wary looks as they waited to see if this was some kind of mean-spirited prank.

“Please,” said one of them. “Help yourself.”

Belatedly, Robyn remembered that she hadn’t actually poured herself a glass of apple juice.

“...This is yours,” she realized.

The sheep faunus sitting across from her leaned over the table and plucked her nearly-empty drink from Robyn’s fingers. She held it up to the light, squinting at the inch and change of liquid remaining, and her ears dropped in comical irritation.

“It _was,”_ she muttered, but she seemed more amused at the mixup than anything else.

Smiling faintly, Robyn cut off an experimental bite of her dinner before making a face and leaning over to snag a pepper grinder.

Atlas Academy at least knew how to feed its students. It was...almost obscene, the wealth of food laid out here. And at the same time, Robyn was furious with herself for thinking it. There was nothing wrong or even excessive about it. There were tables of perfectly sensible sandwiches, hot trays of roast chicken, lamb, and red peppers, alongside slabs of lemon-pepper halibut; a good-quality salad bar and massive bowls of pasta and rice. Ice-cold spring water and a modest array of juices were available, and there was a coffeemaker off to the side for anyone who wanted it. 

It wasn’t overindulgent. It was a _good_ thing, that the Academy made sure its students ate appropriately for the level of intensive physical training, of both body and Aura, that they had to do. The problem wasn’t this dining hall. The problem was everywhere else.

Joanna, down the table, coughed.

Robyn looked up, cocking her head in a silent question; no one _else_ seemed to have been using the pepper, and it wasn’t as if she was planning to keep it forever as a treasured family heirloom.

“Did you want…?” she asked, holding the pepper grinder up slightly.

Joanna cleared her throat again, more pointedly this time, and jerked her head to the right.

Robyn raised an eyebrow, not really interested in a game of charades. That would probably be the _next_ teambuilding assignment, with the way this was going. No need to go for extra credit on an empty stomach.

“Are you choking?” she asked drily. “Is that it?”

All of a sudden Robyn’s neighbor with the horns gave a high-pitched, wheezing noise of pain. Her eyes welled up, throat working soundlessly through a series of curses before she finally managed a hoarse whimper.

_“My shin…!”_

“Oops,” said Joanna, not sounding remorseful in the slightest. “Missed.”

Rolling her eyes, Robyn turned pointedly away from her as she took another bite—and finally looked directly at the faunus across from her, whose drink she’d accidentally stolen earlier. For the first time, Robyn met her eyes.

Her big, vulnerable green eyes, wide and watery. Her wooly ears drooped pathetically along her neck, and she wore the tiniest and most vulnerable expression Robyn had ever seen in her life. Her lip actually wobbled.

“Really?” she said, voice wavering slightly. “You’re just gonna eat that? Right in front of me? I thought you were _different.”_

Robyn, frozen mid-chew, slowly glanced down at her steaming lamb chop before looking back up at the faunus’ expression.

Very carefully, she chewed and swallowed.

“You know,” she managed, very carefully pushing her plate aside. “All of a sudden I’m not hungry.”

The sheep faunus’ ears immediately perked up. Snatching her knife, she leaned forward, impaled Robyn’s lamb chop, and transferred it to her own plate.

“That’s impressive, because I’m _starving,”_ she said, all hints of emotional trauma gone. “They were all out of these by the time I got to the line.”

Robyn, too shocked to be indignant, blinked at her empty plate for several seconds.

 _Joanna_ on the other hand was liable to make herself sick if she didn’t stop laughing so hard. She was actually crying, head resting on the table as she pounded weakly on the surface with one hand.

“Where,” she sobbed. “Where is she even _putting_ it? She ate—the—she already had a—with— _burger?”_

“Breathe,” her neighbor recommended.

And yes, all right. Even Robyn couldn’t keep her lips from twitching uncontrollably. She finished off her drink in an attempt to hide it, but judging by Joanna’s continuing dry-heaving for oxygen she was largely unsuccessful.

“...You’re good,” she observed.

The sheep faunus gave a good-natured grin, eyes sparkling at the joke, and held out a hand.

“Fiona,” she said. “Thyme.”

Fairly beaten, Robyn accepted the handshake. “Robyn Hill.”

“I know. I saw your staff fight. You two were fantastic!”

“Thanks.” Robyn relaxed, resting her elbows on the table. “We should go a few rounds sometime. No pun intended.”

“Never heard that one before,” Fiona assured her, but she didn’t sound annoyed.

Robyn smiled easily; it was hard not to like this girl. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to get some of her own back, if she could.

“Say, Fiona.” She tapped a fingernail against her empty glass. “Grab me a refill?”

She got a couple of nasty looks from nearby faunus over that, and now even Fiona looked angry with her.

“Get your own drink,” she snapped. “I’m not your errand girl. Juice bar’s free.”

“No, no,” Robyn assured her warmly. “It’s not that. I would do it myself, you know? It’s just that I’m feeling so _weak,_ Fiona. After all this exercise I haven’t eaten a bite. My body’s paying the price. I’m wasting away without nourishment and I honestly think if I stand up and walk all that way I may faint. You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

Fiona was visibly fuming. Robyn smiled placidly.

 _“You_ —you smirking, arrogant— _tall person,_ you think you can just—you want _me_ to refill _your_ drink? And I’ll—if we had weapons I’d break your _ribs,_ you—”

Fiona took a deep calming breath. When she opened her eyes again, she was almost eerily calm.

“I’m sorry. That was unfair. You’re right! This is my fault, so I owe you one. You had cranberry juice, right?” At Robyn’s gracious nod, she sighed and picked up her glass. “Fine. You win.”

As Fiona stomped away, another voice caught Robyn’s attention. “Here.” A canine faunus with a shaggy tail handed her a half-rack of ribs, failing to contain his amusement. “Can’t have you _swooning_ on us.”

Tipping him a wink, Robyn tore into the ribs. When Fiona returned and set her glass of cranberry juice down, she crinkled her nose at the little faunus just enough to get a reluctant grin in return as Fiona retook her seat.

“Friends now?” She smiled, ears tilted forward endearingly, and Robyn gave a seated bow to confirm it. “Good.” Fiona slid her empty glass across the table. “Robyn, get me a refill?”

Robyn grinned. “Come on, now. I thought we were even. Get it yourself.”

Fiona’s ears dropped again as she looked up at Robyn from under full eyelashes. “I don’t know if I can. You know what they say about sheep faunus, Robyn, we have very delicate constitutions. Since _you_ drank all my juice I don’t have any way to rehydrate. Dehydration kills, you know. All this aerobic exercise running back and forth without a break, it works up a sweat, so I’m losing a lot of water and electrolytes.”

“We’re in Solitas,” Joanna reminded her. “It’s negative ten outside.”

“I know! When you’re small and delicate like me you burn so many calories just trying to stay warm that any kind of wasteful energy use is dangerous. And since I tried _so hard_ to make it up to you, a kind and generous human as sympathetic to my plight as you are will _surely…”_

“You,” Robyn informed her as she stood, “are the purest and most sweet-faced little _lying devil_ I’ve ever met. _Fine,_ but I hope you understand this means war.”

Leaving Joanna laughing at her back, she swept up Fiona’s glass and made her way to the juice bar with what she hoped was some measure of dignity.

A glass of apple juice and several napkins later—the table hadn’t run out yet, but they were getting there, and if she was up she might as well grab some before they needed more—she came up behind Fiona’s chair and placed it at her right hand.

“Anything _else,_ lambchop?”

Fiona had the grace to blush slightly, and Robyn winked at her.

“So you two met the Schnee, huh?” asked the gazelle girl whose name Robyn was going to have to learn soon.

Joanna snorted. “Yeah. _Not_ a fan.”

“But I had such high expectations,” the dog faunus deadpanned.

Robyn snorted quietly. “Put it this way,” she said. “I hope she ends up being a team leader.”

That got exclamations of mingled surprise and disgust from around the table.

 _“Her?”_ Joanna made a face. _“Why?_ C’mon, Robyn, I was just starting to respect your judgement.”

“Because,” Robyn answered. “If she’s _not,_ I’m pretty sure there’ll be a tragic and unexplained accident by...let’s be generous and give her until midterms. Less, if they’re a faunus. That girl’s the sorest loser I’ve ever met, and she is _not_ stable.”

“I hate sore losers,” Joanna grumbled.

Fiona coughed. “Not that there’s any of those here.”

“Absolutely none,” agreed Robyn with a silent toast. “Fiona, drink up, you sound like you’ve got something in your throat for some reason I can’t possibly guess at.”

Fiona, blushing harder now, half-stood to clink her glass against Robyn’s and chugged half her apple juice to cover her embarrassment. Robyn matched her.

“Careful,” deadpanned Joanna. “You’re driving.”

Without putting her juice down, Robyn flipped her off with her free hand.

From the balcony, a soft tapping of fingers against a microphone drew everyone’s attention. Ironwood raised a hand for silence and gave what looked even from here like an awkward smile.

“No need to get up, everyone,” he said. “Consider this a fifteen-minute warning. Finish your meal, and then you can take the rest of the evening for yourself. Socialize, take advantage of some of the board and card games we’ve set up in the rec room, and build connections. You’ll have four hours before lights-out, and the last of the compatibility exercises will be held in the morning.” He paused. “I want you all to know how impressed I am with your performances today. I look forward to seeing the unique huntsman and huntress teams you will become. Ah...that’s all you need to know. Finish eating and...I’ll see you all in the morning. Ah. Goodnight.”

“Card games,” Joanna commented as the hum of voices started up again. “Anyone up for poker? Robyn?”

“I’m up for anything,” Robyn allowed. “We’ll rescue Marigold on the way. Once Fiona grabs me another refill.”

A low groan rose up from the other faunus along with several pleas to just let it go already, but Fiona just raised an eyebrow.

“Give me one good reason.”

Silently, Robyn reached into her pocket and pulled out the scroll she’d transferred from Fiona’s, in the split second they’d brushed while she set down Fiona’s apple juice.

After staring for a second and frantically patting her pockets, Fiona threw her hands in the air.

“Fine! Fine. Give me my scroll back.” When Robyn made no move to do so, she rolled her eyes. “I promise on my honor as a huntress in training that if you give me my _scroll back_ I’ll get you your stupid refill, Robyn!”

“Can’t argue with that.” Robyn handed it over and turned back to Joanna. “So. Anyone have odds on there being a two-way mirror in the rec room?”

“Nope.” Joanna rolled her shoulders. “He’s _definitely_ watching us.”

“Everything’s a test,” Robyn agreed, glancing up at Ironwood’s observation point. She would be willing to bet the tables were bugged, now that she thought about it. This was all feeding into his decision-making process, after all. Seeing who gravitated toward who, what their fighting styles were like…

He’d see her and Joanna as two _humans_ inviting themselves to the faunus table. She smiled to herself, a humorless expression that she hated. _What_ must Robyn be doing to his poor algorithms?

Fiona sidestepped around a large male human on his way to the dessert table before the dining room closed, and started back toward their little group. For all their teasing, it wasn’t actually that long a walk, and Robyn had only a few seconds to realize that she had returned with two brimming glasses of cold water instead of juice.

A few seconds later, smiling calmly, Fiona dumped both glasses over Robyn’s head.

**Author's Note:**

> In the event that "Robyn is a fox faunus" ends up being canon I will accept my status as a prophet. If not, consider this a monument to what might have been.
> 
> (I am cool with Robyn being human in canon because hey, it's completely possible in fact to care about marginalized groups that you're not part of! I just like The References.)
> 
> In other news, you will notice that this is part of a series now! In the long and noble tradition of the Robin Hood mythos, canon is...malleable. This was written right after A Night Off; as the series went on and we learned more about the characters me and Kablob adjusted our interpretations of the characters, and we think Robyn is just a little older than Winter; they likely wouldn't have been at the Academy in the same year. So, other fics in this series won't have Winter at the Academy at the same time. Everything else, however, the first meetings, hints of Robyn's backstory, etc, will remain the same.
> 
> It's Robin Hood. Canon is a myth. Have fun with it.


End file.
